


Age play, Anal beads and Ankle cuffs

by Sherlock1110



Series: The alphabet kink list [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Anal Beads, Ankle Cuffs, BDSM, Bondage, Daddy John, Dom John, Hand Job, M/M, Naughty Sherlock, Punishment, Restraints, Spanking, Sub Sherlock, Suspension Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 12:17:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4919287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt;<br/>"You're a dirty little boy, Sherlock."<br/>John/Sherlock ageplay. Because I can't believe this meme doesn't have ageplay on it already.</p><p>Sherlock tries escaping one night when he should be in bed, this time John sets up a clever ploy to catch him</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Daddy's Good Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by sherlockian4evr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of 'A's age play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by sherlockian4evr

At 18:30 in the evening in the middle of December, John Watson had left the curtains of the window in the flat of 221B Baker Street open on purpose.

The reason was not to look out like Sherlock would into the crowded London sky, but because it was completely opposite the hallway and completely opposite the hallway with dark glass meant a reflection.

Sherlock has always known that John's armchair faced away from the bedroom door and has therefore used the knowledge of this to his advantage twice on previous occasions.

John could be busy tapping away at his blog and Sherlock could sneak out and avoid bedtime, but now John has a plan.

The case, this time round, had taken 36 hours. It was a fairly average length for a level 6. John had left halfway through, when he knew it wasn't going to be dangerous, because he needed to work, therefore he had also slept. So, when his lover had walked in just after him at 5 o'clock, he could see the state he was in and immediately sent him to bed.

Now he was reading through the case notes from Greg and was transferring them to his blog one eye on the screen, the other on the window.

He was glad of this new ploy because, although he didn't see or hear the bedroom door open (Sherlock was sneaky like that), he noticed movement in the reflection of the glass window.

First out popped Sherlock's head and he looked both ways as if about to cross a busy street before the rest of him emerged. He had taken to wearing pyjamas in bed now, because it meant when he liked to sneak out he was already clothed and it saved the hassle of possibly being heard.

John allowed him to get reasonably close to the door to the flat, close enough for his hopes to be lifted, only for them to be shattered as he cleared his throat and leant back against the wall at the other end of the hallway.

Sherlock turned sheepishly, his hand dropping from where it had reached for the handle and his head low. His hair did a fantastic job of falling forward and hiding his expression.

Nothing was said between them for a long while. Sherlock just stared at the floor between his feet, annoyed at himself for being caught. He must have known he'd be caught eventually, John thinks.

After what felt like forever, John clicked his fingers once and pointed into the other room.

With a short sigh, the detective's head lowered even more and he shuffled passed him, pausing in the doorway when he was unsure what to do next.

“Corner,” John ordered simply.

Sherlock spun around. “But, Daddy-”

“No, Sherlock! Corner. 15 minutes and then you will be going over my knee.”

“Daddy, please-”

John folded his arms and his pointed glare should have been enough to warn his boy he wouldn't win. Apparently it wasn't.

“Daddy-”

He was cut off a lot quicker this time round as John grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and bunched his pyjama top up in his fist before dragging him over to the corner. He pushed his nose to the wall.

“Hands behind your head, son.”

“No!” Sherlock actually stamped his foot and his arms slammed into his hips in fists.

“You have two options. One: you stand there with your hands behind your head and then I spank you before sending you to bed or, two: I spank you, you stand here with your hands behind your head and then I spank you again before sending you to bed.”

The pout on his boys' face was apparent, despite him still facing the corner.

John counted to 30 in his head and then grabbed his collar again. Sherlock had obviously come to the wrong conclusion that his daddy was bluffing because he immediately struggled, wriggling profusely. “No, Daddy! No, I'm sorry! I'll be good.” He tried to raise his hands, but John was having none of it.

“You had fair warning, son.”

Sherlock kicked and fought all the way over to the sofa. “No, Daddy! Please!”

“Lean over the back, Sherlock, hands shoulder width apart.”

“Daddy?” His eyes were wide with panic and confusion.

“This is punishment, son. You don't deserve the comfort of my lap.”

He whimpered, but dutifully leant over the back of the chair, his head low between his shoulders as he saw no other way.

“Why are you being punished, Sherlock?”

“Because you're a mean and horrible dad!”

John couldn't help but smirk and was glad he was out of sight from his petulant boy as he let his hand fall and Sherlock yelped.

“Because you're a mean and horrible dad and I hate you!” Sherlock cried as John began dropping his hand again and again. His palm landed in a slightly different spot each time and at the pace he took he knew he could continue for a while. Once he felt like he had struck everywhere once he moved to his upper thighs and Sherlock kicked out stamping his foot with renewed energy. “Because I tried to sneak out of bed!” He yelled eventually.

John paused. “Close. Try again.”

Sherlock attempted to straighten and John had to push him back over the chair with a stern hand between his shoulder blades.

“I am punishing you for not obeying me whilst in the corner.” Whack! Whack! Whack! His hand landed three more times in quick succession and then he moved to tug his trousers down around his knees.

“No, Daddy! You're mean!” He had straightened up again so this time he grabbed his wrist and pulled it around behind him before renewing his spanking with vigour. Sherlock's backside was a nice rosy colour and he must have been feeling it now judging by the heat radiating off him.

When Sherlock was sobbing uncontrollably, his arm limp in his daddy's grip John's hand stopped falling.

“Will you be a good boy now?”

Sherlock sobbed and sniffed, nodding. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good boy.” He gently ran his hand up and down his back until he regained his composure, or as much as he could with a very sore bum.

“Go on then.”

Another whimper crackled through and slowly his boy slouched off towards the bedroom.

“Oh no, no,” the doctor halted him with a hand on his shoulder. “You had a choice, son. Back in the corner with you.”

“But Daddy, I'm sorry,” he cried.

“Tough, I gave you options and you chose. Now corner.”

His head ducking again, Sherlock bent down to pick up his trousers and John smacked his hands away.

“Little boys that sulk need to be scolded.”

The look Sherlock sent him was nearly enough for John to fold and put him to bed, but that would do no good to enforce the concept of rules and discipline in his brat.  
John followed him to the corner and smoothed his back for a moment.

“10 minutes, son.”

Sherlock's bottom lip was out even as he raised his hands to the back of his neck.

“Over here, then, Sherlock,” John ordered 10 minutes later.

A very tired little boy turned around this time and shuffled over, trying desperately not to fall over his trousers still round his ankles. He was looking extremely sorry for himself and it appeared to be a constant effort to not be still in the corner sulking.

“Now you know why you were spanked the first time. This time you're going over my lap. Do you know what this one is for?”

“Yes, Daddy,” he sniffed softly. “I tried to get out when you told me to go to bed.”

“Good boy. Over you go then.” John decided to go easy on him, seeing as he had behaved well in the corner and obeyed him thus far. He also didn't want to break any skin or to do any damage beyond pain when sitting for a few days.

15 minutes later, John tucked a very sleepy little boy into bed and stroked his hair. He allowed him to lay on his front as he pulls the sheet up and over him. His boy whimpered softly as it made contact with his heated flesh.

“You be a good boy for Daddy, and stay there until morning.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

It was 4 hours later, as John was getting ready to go to bed himself, when he heard moans coming from the bedroom. As he silently poked his head in, he was met with a most interesting sight. Sherlock was on his knees, his head forward and resting against the sheet with one hand pumping his cock rough and fast, the other supporting him so he didn't topple over. John was amazed with the ingenuity of what he had accomplished. He couldn't lay on his back because his arse was no doubt bruised and painful, so he had sought an alternative, a more painless alternative.

John cleared his throat, his arms folded and his own cock fighting for freedom.

“You're a dirty little boy, Sherlock.”


	2. Build it beads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of 'A's anal beads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by sherlockian4evr

Sherlock had been on their bed for what felt like all night. He knew it wasn't, however, because up until an hour ago he had had been over John's knee receiving a very thorough spanking because of the comments he'd made at the crime scene earlier. There had been so many that John had counted and Sherlock, therefore, was in a lot of trouble. Now, his knees were as spread as possible, uncomfortably so, and John had already attached the ankle cuffs. These ones were new as their usual leather ones had worn away to nothing. They were wider than normal and would give the doctor that bit more control - control he told the sub that he needed. He had since attached two lengths of rope to each cuff, thrown them up rather accurately over the bar they had fitted in the ceiling a long time ago and tied it off, rendering Sherlock's legs useless until John wanted otherwise. They both knew that John wouldn't want “otherwise” for a long time. They were going to be a while and John didn't want the detective feeling any aches that he didn't personally give him, so he had slotted a pillow under his lower back for support.

All the way through this, Sherlock hadn't said a thing. Despite the pull and tug at his abused flesh, he stoically ignored it. He was under strict orders to only answer direct questions, failure to do so would mean punishment, and as much as Sherlock had enjoyed the punishments when this first started, he also knew that the doctor wasn't stupid and as soon as he had realised that the brat enjoyed a spanking, he had made sure the next item he hit him with wasn't as soft and comforting as his hand. Now, seeing as the paddle had rendered his arse useless for the near future, he didn't fancy going down that route again.

“How many times did I count rude, unwarranted comments, boy?”

Sherlock closed his eyes. He hated this bit. This was the bit when he realised just how angry and/or upset his Dom was with him. Still. After that thrashing.

“7, sir.”

“7. Yes, that's incredibly high. We had got down to one, maybe two as Anderson was on forensics, but 7!?”

“I'm sorry, sir.”

John whacked his arse once. He could feel how hot his paddled flesh was and he smiled. “Speak when spoken to! You know the rules, or do you need reminding?”

When no response was forthcoming, John forced a finger into his tight little hole without preparation. The younger man yelped. “That was a question, brat.”

“No, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“Do you know what that means, then?”

He shook his head slightly. “No, sir.”

“I would have been worried if you did. I've bought some new toys home. Well a new toy with lots of parts. We were going to play gently, but after today you don't deserve gentle, do you, Brat?”

Sherlock whimpered, “No, sir.”

His boy looked sheepish at that. John waved a bag of brand new anal beads in different sizes around. He placed the bag on the side and Sherlock boggled at it for a few minutes.

“Seeing as you were a bit of a shit 7 times, I will put 7 on this.” He pulled out a piece of string. Sherlock was reminded of one of those 'build it' kits his parents had insisted on making him play with when he was young.

Sherlock couldn't see much of the palaver John had with the beads, given his position, and was rather annoyed when the older man announced he was finished. He had hoped he would get fed up, stamp his foot and march off, then bring a better toy, a nicer one, maybe one that would be less long term.

***

He made quick work of his bright red hole, using plenty of lube, as pain was not the aim here, at least not yet. He used first a finger and then a second to loosen it up as much as possible and then slicked the smallest ball first that was rather large, given the fact it was the first ball, and then placed it at his entrance. “Every time you tense up I will smack you, Brat, and seeing as you haven't been near a mirror you will be unaware how red your bum already is.”

“Unaware?” He spluttered. “I can feel it.”

“Watch the cheek!” His Dom snapped and Sherlock flinched, even before the punishment palm came down.

“Sorry, sir,” he whispered.

“Quite.” He returned his attention to pushing the ball in and watched as he swallowed it up with a pop and it disappeared. He stared, fascinated, for a minute before smiling again. “Ah, my little boy has got a greedy little hole.”

Once John had got all 7 in, the last one making Sherlock's eyes water (though he didn't complain), he patted his arse in a soft caress. He gently massaged the flesh in a way he knew would aggravate the balls inside. The younger man purred under the ministrations.

“Pick a plug, brat,” John patted his leg as he released him.

Bruised flesh hit the sheets and Sherlock winced silently as the doctor lowered his legs down.

“Good boy.”

The praise felt good, given how long his Dom had been in punishment mode.

“How long are they going to be inside me, Sir?” Sherlock knew it was a risk, asking, but every slight shift sent the balls moving, rolling over his insides and one was positioned next to his prostate, meaning each move equalled a spark of pleasure.

“I think a week sounds good.”

“A week! Sounds good? S-Sir, please.”

“7 unneeded comments equals 7 days, but if you're very good I could make it 7 hours.”

Sherlock didn't like the feel of the balls jingling around inside him. They were uncomfortable and he was already in trouble. He didn't want to make things worse. This was on top of the fact that his bum hurt awfully. He moved around and selected a plug before rolling over and raising his arse in the air for John to have easy access. He flinched as he felt a hand soothe over the still heated flesh and heard a quietly murmured “Good boy”. He beamed at the praise, even if it was only to the sheet in front of him.

He kept as still as he could while the plug was pushed in. He tapped it once and Sherlock jolted, but managed to bite his lip in time to stop any rogue unwanted noises. Rogue unwanted noises might mean a week.

7 hours, Sherlock. He would behave. He would be good. He could do this!

“But if it is only 7 hours, you will not orgasm for a week.”

Well, that killed the mood.


	3. Ankle Cuffs and Their Uses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 of 'A's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by sherlockian4evr

Both John and Sherlock had always been fascinated with cuffs, whether they be hand cuffs, ankle cuffs or the new large waist cuff that Sherlock had bought because he said he looked good in red. 

John's favourite was by far the new ankle cuffs. They were leather, but a deep red in colour. They were also thick, padded and fur lined. This gave them added comfort. Added comfort meant he could be left with them a long time. The longer the better. Long times in ankle cuffs meant long times not having to think. The moment they were wrapped around the detective, he was so far in a different headspace coherent sentences were a challenge. 

John would always do them up a touch too tightly. A touch too tightly meant Sherlock lost that bit more control. And that bit more control that he lost meant that bit more control John gained. 

The ankle cuffs were fantastic and always useful because he could do what he liked with his brilliant detective once he had control of his feet. His hands were different. Sherlock could still potentially 'run away' with the hand cuffs, but with the ankle cuffs he couldn't go anywhere, not that he ever wanted to, but the point still stood, the ankle cuffs were the best!

John would sometimes tie him spread eagled on the bed, each foot tied to a post at the bottom of the bed. He would kick and thrash for no reason other than he knew he wasn't going anywhere. This position was perfect when John wanted to tease and pinch and lick and kiss every part of the pale flesh that was revealed when his clothes came off. One time, John even tied his hands to the top posts and bent him double. He made him hold his feet respectively as he tied the cuffs to the same posts as each hand. This had left his arse in a very vulnerable position and at the doctor's mercy which he had taken full advantage of. 

Other times, when the detective was being a sod, John would make things difficult by joining his feet together with varying lengths of chain. Depending on how bad he has been, depends on the length he's given. If he's just been cheeky, he ties them in a way that means he can walk, but his feet jerk when he tries to lunge forward in the way that leaves John behind. If he's been rather rude at crime scenes, John will shorten the distance his feet can get. He gets very irritated with this very quickly. He likes to be able to leave John in his chair in a strop when he wants, with the chain at this length the best he can manage is a hobble. Once, he even used a karabiner and Sherlock had to crawl around at his heels. John had taken full advantage of that also. He had used his scarf as a leash and pretended he was a dog, Sherlock had remained hard all day. 

Another thing John likes to do with his feet, is tie them to the ceiling. He cuffs them together as tight as possible and then uses a rope to lift his feet off the floor. This leaves the younger man laying with his back on the hardwood and his feet in the air. It also means John can always find him when he wants a quick fuck. This is always used when John wakes up to find the bed beside him cold. It's different if it's warm, he knows the detective had just vacated it, but when it is cold, he knows he's been gone a while. If he has been gone a while, he hasn't slept much. Not sleeping much led to grouchiness and grouchiness led to him being a sod and being a sod led to his feet being cuffed together. Therefore, John always found it more convenient when he was strung up from the ceiling.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Boyish Soul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4903552) by [sherlockian4evr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr)




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